


Retrouvailles

by capt_ann



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Bedsharing, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Oh did I mention, Only One Bed, Pining, Post-Canon, Quarantine, but also flashbacks, there's only one bed at the hotel, whats that trope called, yeah thats a trope now lets go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:13:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25689388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capt_ann/pseuds/capt_ann
Summary: RetrouvaillesFait, pour des personnes séparées, de se retrouver.For separated people to find each other.from "retrouver", which literally means "to find something again,"The only reason he agrees to have Eames on the job is because they shouldn't have to interact for more than a day or two at the most.But stories with your ex is never that simple.Especially if you're Arthur.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 89
Collections: Inception Big Bang 2020





	Retrouvailles

**Author's Note:**

> First things first, I want to give a huge thank you to my big bang artist/partner, [ Leo ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyleo/) for being the bestest most amazing person ever. (Uploaded his art in the bit where it's in the story + end notes so its a surprise (: )  
> My two rl best friends, Sofia and Mt. Tilly.  
> My lovelyyyyyy beta [ Mo. ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedhotcocoa)  
> This fic is dedicated to you lot as much as it is to the big bang.  
> Without your support and everything where would I be :(( sending hugs and kisses to you all.
> 
> And of course, it's also decidated to every single one of you who has opened this fic. I really wouldn't be anywhere without you guys. Hugs and kisses to you, too.
> 
> Without further ado, I present to you, the mess:

_“I didn't realize it, but the days came along one after another, and then two years were gone, and everything was gone, and I was gone.”_

**_\- F. Scott Fitzegerald_ **

♥♠♣♦

Of course something like this would have to happen to Arthur. It was just his luck to be saddled with such a scenario.

Let’s go to the start, when Arthur got a call from Haley, an extractor, who started the call off with her _'please just hear me out'_ tone. Arthur had become more familiar with it than he would have liked to. “You know that I wouldn’t do this unless I absolutely had to, right?”

He had let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Just tell me what happened.”

“I landed us a really big gig. Not as big as your Saito one, but pretty damn big.” She’d told him. “Which means . . . that there’s no way we can screw this up. Which also means I’ll have to hire the best of the best. That’s why I called you, of course, because you’re the absolute best.”

It was then that he’d had an inkling about what she was buttering him up for. “Haley . . . I’m not really sure that telling him— you know there are other forgers, right? Other forgers who also do the work of an extractor, even architects. He’s not the only smart one.”

“I know, Arthur, I do. But there’s a reason Dominic Cobb chose him, too, when you guys did inception, right?” Haley insisted. She’d clearly thought about what to say long before Arthur picked up the phone. “The job’s not even going to be that long. Just about a week to observe the mark and her fiancée, and the rest I’m sure we can cover in at most two days.”

On one hand, Arthur knew that Haley had absolutely thought that they needed the forger for the job because the last time Haley mentioned bringing Eames in for a job -nearly a year ago-, Arthur had snapped at her so viciously that she didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day, or bring his name up again after. Until now, that is. But on the other hand, even though it had been quite a while since he’d last actually seen Eames, he wasn’t sure he was ready to see him. Not yet.

Arthur double checked all the files and made sure that they need Eames, and no one else. He was reluctant to agree even after all the evidence, but he figured that he could be civil enough. After all, he wouldn’t have to talk to the forger that much until the actual job.

  
  
  


Or so he thought. Within the next day, he got another call from Haley who was apologising profusely before Arthur even got to answer the call. Apparently Eames had taken it upon himself to book the tickets to Perth for the both of them. Haley was already in Perth, as she had no jobs lined up apart from this particular one, and thought best to book her flight to Perth a week from the marks departure. Arthur found himself wishing he’d done the same.

According to Eames, he had booked tickets so Arthur didn’t have to _“worry about it”_ -which he wouldn't have, Arthur had never been worried about booking flights. It was the simplest part about a job in another country.

“Boarding the same plane as the mark. Really, Eames?” Arthur said into the phone as soon as Eames picked up. It’s the first thing either of them have said to each other in years. When he opened the ticket he received by mail, he could tell that every detail was supposed to bait Arthur into calling Eames. As the point man, he had, of course, chosen to pick the detail about being in the same plane as the mark and her fiancée in three days' time.

“Good morning to you, too,” Eames replied on the other line, yawning, he’d no doubt just woken up. 

“You do realise how risky it is to be in the same plane as them, with dreamshare becoming more popular by the day, right?” Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He could hear Eames shift around the room, before heading straight to the kitchen to prepare his tea, no doubt, before even going to the washroom. A habit he seemed to still not grown out of. “Don’t worry, they’re seated at the front, we’re seated at the back. There’s no reason for her to give us any significance. Besides, much easier for me to do my job if I’ve got an eye on them for as long as possible, hmm?”

After they came to an agreement, Arthur ended the call, taking in a deep shaky breath, as he slumped against his chair.

  
  
  


The last time he had even spoken to Eames was two years ago, on a job in Athens. It was the first job they did together after the Fischer job— and it had gone terribly. Arthur had put most of his cards on the table taking the job. It was one with many risks due to the mark being a high profile client who was militarised, but even that wasn’t what Arthur worried about the most. No, it was seeing Eames again after four and a half months.

What Arthur hadn’t anticipated upon seeing Eames was how cold he would be around Arthur. Sure, he expected it during the Fischer job, but the way they conversed further into the job made Arthur swell up with hope that maybe they could go back to the way they were before. If they couldn’t be friends again, then at least two colleagues working together cordially at times, seeing as they were the best in the business. In fact, he was sort of looking forward to seeing Eames.

Halfway into the job, it became apparent why Eames was shutting Arthur off.

“Heard you shacked up with Ariadne. Congratulations.” He had muttered, starting to walk away as Arthur gave him a file regarding their assignment.

Eames, ever the romantic, would of course think that. “We didn’t—I didn’t _shack up_ with Ariadne-,” _it was just a kiss_ , he was about to add, but they were interrupted by the door breaking down and bullets ricocheting near their heads.

When Arthur tried to talk to Eames after that, he experienced having the door shut on his face for the first time in his life.

Thinking back to that moment a few months later, he almost wished that he hadn't let his pettiness take over when deciding whether or not to cut off Eames from his life. But contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t a robot, he had feelings, and sometimes he just couldn’t be the bigger person.

Although, looking at it from a neutral point of view, Arthur should have been the bigger person and kept trying. Why? Well, they didn’t always have such a relationship, did they? There was a reason that they hadn’t seen each other for months _before_ the Fischer job. 

  
  
  


_Arthur ran his hand through his slicked hair, letting a few strands loose. He leant back against their kitchen counter._ Their _kitchen counter._ Oh God, _Arthur thought to himself,_ of course _. In that moment, it dawned to him that he should have seen this coming. He was willing to bet everyone who knew about them had._

_“What the bloody hell do you mean_ ‘maybe it would be a bad idea’ _?” Eames sputtered, his voice getting slightly louder by each word. He backed away from Arthur to stand opposite of him and cross his arms against his chest._

_It had started as a playful comment, but the moment Arthur stiffened up when Eames wrapped his arms around him and said,_ “Darling, we haven’t even gotten married yet and you make me the happiest man on Earth,” _the conversation grew serious._

_Eames wasn’t like Arthur when it came to love. Everyone perceived Eames as the suave ladies-and-gents man who flirted with anything that moved and slept around. Truth was, even though he did a bit of meaningless flirting here and there, he would only do so if he felt like the two of them could get along as friends. So he more often flirted platonically than anything. Eames’s loyalty was a thing of rarity, but when you earned it, he would do anything for you. He could let the life of five people waste away so long as yours didn’t. And as bad at maths as he may claim to be, he was very calculating when it came to people. The life of a forger, of course. He subconsciously made metaphorical pros and cons lists before he let himself choose to fall for someone._

_Arthur on the other hand, despite what others thought, flirted more. And not just when he was interested in the person. Him being emotionally attracted tended to happen once in a while and when it did, it was always suddenly. He would be going about his daily routine and notice the other person doing something as simple as getting up from their desk to fetch a piece of paper and it would hit him._ ‘Oh,’ _he’d realise,_ ‘I like them.’ _He would pursue them if his feelings persisted, but he knew he had issues when it came to being in a committed relationship with someone._

_While Eames’s loyalty took a long time to earn and could be shattered easily, Arthur was loyal to a fault when he did trust you. It’s why he’d soon left to go follow Dom around the globe and clean up after him when Mal left them._

_It was stupid, really, freezing up that day. Eames wasn’t like anyone he’d met before, how the thought of even being hurt crossed his mind was shocking on it’s own. And maybe that’s why he hesitated, too, he never thought he would get to the day when he feared getting hurt by someone else. He wished later, he just told Eames that he needed some time to think it over, think about_ them getting married. _Doesn’t everyone think of different ways to say things after a serious conversation is done?_

_Instead of saying those with a calm head, Arthur had started panicking. “It’s just—I mean, think about it. Our job is really dangerous, Eames, if the wrong person finds out-,”_

_“I_ have _been thinking about it. We’ve been together for nearly four years, Arthur, what do you_ think _I’ve been thinking about?” Eames had a point. Not that Arthur paused to understand that, yet. He’d later like to chalk it up to the fact that he was young and naive, despite being nearly twenty eight. Oh, and having just lost his best friend, too, he supposed he should’ve mentioned that, too._

_Arthur gripped his elbows, his voice steady, though his thoughts were anything but. “I didn’t know you would think about . . . ”_

_“Right, because our relationship has such little worth to me, that I don’t think of anything besides using you whenever I’m in the mood for a snog.”_

_“That’s not what I said,” Arthur objected, frowning. “That’s not how I think you treat our relationship. I’m . . . I’m just worried.”_

_“Give me a little specificity, Darling, what is it that you’re so worried about?” Arthur flinched slightly, hearing Eames use his name with such hostility for the first time._

_“Speci—I don’t know, Eames, there’s just—there’s—there’s a lot.”_

_“Right, of course. My apologies for hoping for a different reaction,” he said after a minute. “I thought we could at least talk about it.” He headed to the front of their shared apartment, and it was when Eames pocketed his gun, wallet, and phone that it hit Arthur that Eames might not be planning to come back for a long time. But he froze up again, unable to convince his limbs to make a move and tell Eames to come back, that they could talk about it._

  
  


That year, Arthur turned twenty eight alone. Eames, in turn, turned thirty two alone a few months later as Arthur nearly ripped apart his gift before shoving it to the end of their— _his_ wardrobe. He wouldn’t say so himself, but there was a strong possibility that working with Cobb and making sure the extractor didn’t get himself killed was the only reason Arthur managed to keep his head together after their separation.

  
  
  


After all of that, here Arthur was, standing next to Eames in the Bangkok Airport, about to board the plane. Their reunion was somewhat awkward, and far too polite for how the duo usually was. The air of courteousness broke when Arthur took a glance at Eames’s boarding pass. “Why does your boarding ticket have ‘Darling’ on it?” Arthur asks, icily.

“Well, our mark is a lovely bisexual lady who’s engaged to another lovely woman, and not that you would know, but same sex couples who are engaged tend to feel rather giddy coming across other same sex married couples.”

Arthur bit back a _‘Oh, and you would know?’_ because despite Arthur’s impeccable skills and tendency to occasionally keep an eye on Eames, there could still be many things he didn’t know about him now. The thought of that had Arthur feeling a bit queasy, but he mentally kicked himself for even being bothered by that, and tamped down his emotions.

“This is simply a precaution in case a flight attendant approaches us on the plane and the mark overhears. Makes us seem more trustworthy. Really, Arthur, as a point man I would’ve expected you to be prepared for something like that.”

“As a point man I would’ve simply not boarded the plane with the mark, unless it was for the job.” Arthur snipes. “Besides, that’s highly unlikely—in fact, not likely at all for us to have to make any conversation with the marks. As you said, they’re at the front.”

Eames raises an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming. “Want to place a bet on that?” 

An hour and a half later, despite the absolute unlikeliness, the mark and her fiancée have their seats changed to ones that are much closer to Arthur and Eames’s seats. He knows making a bet with Eames oftentimes led to the forger manipulating the odds to be in his favour, but Arthur hadn’t been on the manipulated end since they’d first met. 

“Problem with first class is that the rich blokes get to buy tickets in. And the problem with that is that not all rich blokes are open minded, hmm? You two make a lovely couple, don’t let him make you uncomfortable.” Eames tells the females as they settled down on their new seats. It took a lot of restraint from Arthur’s side to not kick Eames hard on the shin at the fact that he was engaging with the mark.

“Oh, we won’t. Wish we could do more than just change our seats, but I can’t exactly say anything overly rude to someone we’ll be stuck on a plane with for the next couple of hours.” The dark-haired mark sighs. “But thank you. I’m Andrea. This is my fiancée, Ginny.” Arthur knew that, of course. 

He also knew that they had met each other six years ago when Andrea’s business was just starting up in her hometown, Seoul, that they didn’t start dating until four years ago, when they moved together in the states, but made it known to the public just last year, since Andrea’s business had grown so much that she now had press conferences. He knew simple things, too, like Andrea’s favourite pie flavour being blueberry, and Ginny’s being apple.

Eames dutifully shook their hands. “I’m Edward. This is my husband, Frank.” He had no idea when Eames had nicked the gold rings, or from whom, and given the choice, he would rather not have to wear the stolen rings and pretend to be married to Eames, but, since he’d already outed them, he had but little choice. Arthur slipped on the ring subtly and gave the girls a smile that he hoped didn’t look too fake.

He hated to admit most times Eames was right, but he definitely was. The girls’s faces light up at the mention of Arthur being his _husband_. Which . . . well, fair enough. “How long have you been married?” Asks Ginny, it was the first time he’d heard her voice since the plane took off. It was softer than Arthur expected it to be.

Arthur decided to speak up, too, which proved to be a terribly calculated mistake when he said, “Two years,” while Eames said, “Four years,” at the same time. 

“Silly me,” Eames chuckles easily, looking over at Arthur and picking up his left hand. “I like to count the engagement, too, while Frankie here is all about precision.” Through the whole sentence, Eames kept his eyes on Arthur, making his throat tighten. 

Arthur was nothing if not professional, though, so he looked away from Eames and smiled at the girls despite how much he wanted to tense up. “If we counted the time we were together as marriage before we got married, then the number would keep increasing.”

“He does have a point there.” Eames nods, finally shifting his gaze away from Arthur. “So, what’s taking you to Perth? Business or pleasure?”

“Business, unfortunately, I hear there might be something going around in the country, so I wouldn’t have risked it.” 

“Doesn’t mean we can’t turn it into a bit of both,” Ginny adds.

Andrea laughs and brings their entwined hands to kiss Ginny’s knuckles. “She insisted that she come with. Claiming if I caught something, I’d give it to her anyway because she wouldn’t be able to stay away for weeks. She’s stubborn, this one. What about you guys?”

“A little bit of both,” Eames nods. “If I can convince Frank to take his mind off work, that is.”

Arthur rolls his eyes at Eames, hopes it comes out fond. “Despite what he’s been saying, I’m not all work.”

“Oh, I know that, dear.”

  
  
  


Three hours into the flight, the two are asleep. Andrea’s head on Ginny’s shoulder and Ginny’s on top of hers, her dirty blonde hair falling on her face. “So, what do I get for winning?” Eames asks, stretching his legs.

“You cheated. Doesn’t count as winning.” Arthur huffs, leaning back against his seat, his body finally agreeing to relax now that he didn’t have to put up a front and pretend to be Eames’s . . . husband. Arthur wasn’t exactly behind on lying, and they were something of a speciality of Eames’s, but still, this felt odd somehow.

Eames looks at Arthur with a look that says _‘are you serious?’._ “I didn’t have that bloke say those stuff to the girls, did I?”

“You didn’t have to engage in conversation, though.” He counters.

“Hm, I suppose I didn’t.” Eames hums. “Well, I’ll remember that for the next time, but it was never specified in this bet.”

“Fine, what do you want?” 

“Chalk this up to a you-owe-me for now? I’m afraid I need a nap, too.” Arthur didn’t argue with being indebted to him, even though he wanted to, because Eames very nearly never slept in a plane. Especially not such a short one.

Later, when Eames’s head shifted closer to Arthur’s, he didn’t move away, just held his breath as the gold ring on his finger burned. Eames’s head ended up staying that way there for the rest of the two hours, not on Arthur’s shoulder, but close enough.

  
  
  


See, of course. _Of course_ things would have to get infinitely worse for Arthur. He didn’t believe in reincarnation, but he was convinced he must have done something horrible in a past life to be deserving of something like this. Or maybe this was all karma for going into people’s heads and messing with them so intimately. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to say that things couldn’t get any worse, just in case they managed to. But he did think it, he definitely did. 

In the past week, he didn’t want to strangle Eames as much as he did when the nice lady behind the hotel desk said, _“Welcome, Mr. and Mr. Darling”_. He couldn’t, however, cut off Eames’s breathing at that moment, because right behind them was Andrea and Ginny, and they still had to put up an act.

You see, these were, as several emails indicated, “trying times”, and it was partially his fault for not properly checking if Eames had made arrangements for isolation for 14 days. _“I didn’t know we’d have to show a_ legal _place as proof before we even made it out of the airport,”_ Eames had sputtered when they walked into their “Premier King” hotel room.

It was a lovely room, really. A big floor to ceiling window that overlooked the lake, hexagon shaped mirrors on the next wall, vases around the room, low beautifully shaped ceiling lights, a glass table with two tub chairs, an elegant chaise, and two glass bedside tables. The only problem? There was just one bed. Because Arthur’s karma goes all or nothing.

“Did you actually have to make our aliases married?” Huffs Arthur, dropping his suitcase on top of the table with controlled frustration.

“You know me, Darling, got to keep it as real as possible.” Eames responds, placing his own suitcase next to the closet.

“I do know you, that’s why I know what you just said is bullshit.” Arthur informs, unlocking his phone and dialing Haley’s number. Eames muttered something under his breath that Arthur doesn’t catch before Haley answers. “Hey. Bad news.”

“I heard,” Haley sighs over the phone. “I’m sorry about that, I didn’t realise the situation would expand to such lengths.”

“Yeah. The only bright side is that Andr— _the mark_ is right down the hall from us, so we can keep an eye on them. I don’t think we’ll be able to perform the extraction, though, hotel policies about distance right now prevent it from being possible.”

“Yeah, I thought so. I’ll call Eames and tell him to keep an eye on his mark, then. An extra week of being able to observe the fiancée around the mark probably won’t hurt.”

“You don’t have to call him, he’s in the same room, I’ll tell him.”

There’s a beat of silence before Haley swears under her breath. “What?”

“Bye. I’ll call or text you if there’s anything to update.” He says, before ending the call and pulling up his texts.

  
  


**To: H**

_have to stay in the same room as Eames for 2 weeks. he made our aliases married. you owe me._

**From: H**

_Couldnt you jst request another room?_

**To: H**

_if only._

_the mark thinks we’re married, too. long story. can’t let them doubt._

**From: H**

_Sorry_ _🙏_

_I could give you 5% from Eames’s cut?_

**To: H**

_he doesn’t know how much he’s getting?_

**From: H**

_No, he agreed to do the job before I told him_

_Then I think he forgot to ask_

_And u know me, i don't discuss pay unless I’m being asked directly or it’s the last day_ _😶_

That was odd. The only time Eames didn’t think too much about what the pay was was when it was a particularly interesting job. Such as inception. But this was practically like any other routine job in the dream share business. Well, it involved a higher profile client and more money, but still. Not big enough for Eames to neglect discussing everything about the job. 

**To: H**

_nah, let him keep his cut. you still owe me though._

“Sorry to interrupt, but tell me what?” Eames asks, hovering near the bed.

“What?” Arthur frowns, taking off his jacket and draping it over the chair. 

“On the phone. You said something about not calling me because you can tell me?”

“Oh. Right. Haley said to keep your eye on Ginny. You could observe her here so you’ll be ready by the time the job starts so we can finish earlier.”

“Yeah, of course. I was planning to do that. It’s better that we got acquainted in the plane rather than them noticing some random bloke following them -if they’d noticed, don’t you think?”

Arthur doesn’t tell him that it’s not wise to engage with the mark outside of a dream, he’s sure Eames remembers what happened in Manila, he just says “No,” and heads to the bathroom. In there, Arthur stares at the ring before his stomach twists a bit too hard, and he has to yank it off.

  
  
  


They don’t get much done that day. Arthur did some light background checks to keep himself busy, because even though all he wanted to do was go to sleep after that flight, he didn’t want to deal with the sleeping arrangements. 

Eames, however, went right to bed after his own shower. Arthur wondered what Eames was up to now that he needed to go to sleep after the nap on the plane (if one should even consider sleeping for more than 5 hours a nap. Arthur calls them a good healthy sleep). Then he told himself to snap out of it. 

Arthur was in what some would -ironically—call a pickle. On one hand he figured he should just treat Eames as he would to any other coworker or friend, but on the other they were exes who never really got closure, so how were they to navigate around each other.

The concept of closure had never even mattered to Arthur before, really. Either you were done after you broke up with someone and never spoke to them again. Or you were still friends.

Or something.

Thinking about it, Arthur actually had no idea how closure worked. 

Point of the matter was, he didn’t know where he and Eames stood. In a way, their relationship had ended in somewhat of a proposal refusal. And he may not know much about how normal relationships end, but he had an idea that if there was a proposal refusal, it was most likely that the two people didn’t want to see each other anymore.

_Maybe we should talk ab—_ No. Last time Arthur attempted to talk to him, he had the door slammed to his face, right? So either Eames would bring it up and apologise or they can both suffer. Pride really was a weapon turned on oneself.

“Just get into bed,” Eames gruffs out from the left side of the bed after Arthur’s been standing in the middle of the room for five minutes in his turmoil. “Here,” He continued, shifting so that his back was facing Arthur. “Now get in, we used to do this anyway, and your loud thinking isn’t letting me sleep.” 

Arthur was drained enough to not argue and get in, his back facing Eames’s, but it didn’t stop him from holding his breath until he was sure Eames had fallen back to sleep.

  
  
  


The next morning, neither woke up in the others arms or went through any awkward moments of the sort to Arthur’s relief. Eames, who was unsurprisingly up before Arthur, made himself tea and got dressed for the rest of the day while Arthur was contemplating bailing on breakfast at the hotel restaurant.

“Couples fight all the time,” Arthur was saying after making his own cup of coffee, making excuses up after him saying he’s not hungry did not work. “It won’t be that big a deal if we don’t have breakfast together.”

“Don’t be silly, Arthur,” Eames frowned, looking at him through the dressing mirror as he slipped on ‘his’ gold ring. “We’re supposed to be on a vacation together, this is just the first day.”

Yeah, Eames had a point there. “Fine. But you’re paying.” Arthur huffs, grabbing the ring beside the table.

  
  


It was just his fortune to find that Andrea and Ginny were down there, too. On a normal day, to find them would be no surprise at all, and on a normal day Arthur might have even gotten away with going against the idea of leaving the room to have to play pretend with Eames. But since there were rules laid out to prevent the public places from getting crowded, Arthur was holding on to the last bit of hope that the girls wouldn’t have been in the 20% of people allowed to be there at a time for the day.

“Hey!” It was Ginny who spotted them first, her arms looped through Andrea’s reminding Arthur to grab Eames’s. “Fancy seeing you two here.”

“You know what they say about early birds and worms,” Eames replied, resting his hand on top of Arthur’s out of habit. 

The four of them rendezvous outside the atrium after their meal. Arthur expected it when Ginny, sitting across him with Andrea, asked them how they met, it was the most common question after all. But the problem with that was the fact that the two of them had conveniently avoided talking about what happened, so they didn’t get to coordinate their made up lives.

“Well, I was working at an architecture firm which Frank had just joined, and it was love at first sight for me.” Eames told them, making Arthur snort as he took a seat next to him on the lush couch outside. “Frank, however, hated me the moment I made a pass on him.”

“Which was immediately.” Arthur piped in. “And I didn’t _hate_ you. You were my competition for the next project, I had to look out for you.”

“And look out for me he did.” Eames winked after the girls aww-ed.

“So how did you stop hating him and end up getting together, then?” Andrea asked Arthur.

“I never really hated him.” Arthur defended again, mirroring her small smile. “I was younger, so the fact that he was exactly my type got on my nerves.”

Ginny’s eyes widened comically. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.” She sighs, leaning her head against Andrea’s shoulder. “But she’s right. Who asked who?”

“Frank did. He decided he’d had enough frustration to last him a week and a half and we went out for three years before I broke and asked him to marry me.”

“Oh my God, that is so sweet.”

“What about you two?” Arthur asks, despite the file upstairs with all the information on the two of them. Ginny lit up before starting the story, making Arthur smile and subconsciously lean closer to Eames.

  
  


Thankfully, Eames strayed from the truth this time. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle having to recount how it happened while they weren’t together anymore. Truth was, they knew each other for a year and two months before either made a move to outright ask the other.

_“Does anyone have any questions?” Arthur asked after he concluded, putting down his moleskin to clasp his hands together._

_To Arthur’s surprise, Eames was the one to raise his hand. At Arthur’s nod, he asked, “What do you think of the prospect of you and I heading out for a date tomorrow night?”_

_Arthur will admit that the question had caught him off guard enough to draw out a small pause. But Arthur was nothing if not a quick thinker. “I think I would be happy with the prospect, but does anyone have any questions relevant to the job that we are currently working on?”_

And that was the last time Arthur had gone out with anyone more than three times, since.

  
  


“‘Architecture firm’, huh?” Arthur asks, opening the door to their room six hours later.

Eames shrugs, heading to the washroom. “Someone once said the best lies are the ones that are half truths.”

“Isn’t the quote about that being the worst kind of lie?” He responds, using the sink next to Eames. “Or were you just projecting your dream of corporate jobs?”

Eames laughs. “Going corporate. You know, even if I wanted to, dreamshare completely ruined that for me.”

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees, knowing exactly what he means even if their minds are militarised. He wipes his hands on the towel outside before opening his suitcase to take another pair of trousers and sweater out.

After Eames changes into his own tee and trousers, he sits on the chair Arthur was occupying the day before and turns to look at him. “So . . . should we talk about it?”

Funny how Arthur was seen as such a put-together sort of man when those five words made his throat close up and his ring finger feel like it was on fire. “About?” He questions, keeping on a calm facade that he’s sure Eames would have seen right through if Arthur hadn’t looked away to keep himself busy with making a cup of coffee and tea for the two of them. They deserve their beverages after sitting so close to each other the whole day pretending to talk about things while keeping their eyes on the two girls who were exploring the more empty looking parts of the hotel.

“About Edward and Frank. Or is it more fun to take turns making stories and adapting to it, do you think?” Eames responds, leaning back against the chair and checking the drawers of the table.

Arthur holds back a sigh, not sure if he was relieved or disappointed. “Well, I think we covered most of the bases while talking to them.” He says, placing Eames’s cup of tea in front of him, which makes the Brit frown a little with a mixture of shock and . . . something else. Arthur’s ability to read Eames’s expressions seems to be growing weaker.

“Right. Well, maybe it’s because we know each other for so long, but you do seem a bit stiff to me. Maybe the girls haven’t noticed, or they could chalk it up to something else but . . .”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to have to pretend to be married to you, was I?” Arthur frowns. 

“Fair enough,” he nods, picking his cup up. “Sorry about that, I wouldn’t have dragged you into it had I known that we’d keep seeing them after the plane ride.” 

Arthur inclines his head to the right, a way of saying, _“it’s fine”_ , before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Are you tied up with anyone right now?” There’s a fraction of a second where Arthur thinks he’s about to choke on his coffee when Eames asks him that, but Arthur's brain was smart enough to make itself go into panic without reacting physically. “So I know what my boundaries are. I wouldn’t kiss you if you were seeing someone, even if it was for a job.”

Arthur frowns over his mug. “I’m not with anyone … Is this about-,”

It was a funny thing, timing. Moments like these when it seems like your life is a movie or a book, when your phone rings out loudly, demanding attention, right when you’re about to step into a conversation that you don’t want to be having.

“I’m afraid I’ve got to take this, Darling. It’s my mother, excuse me.”

  
  


Besides not wanting Eames in the Fischer job because of their ‘unofficial break up’, he also didn’t want to include him because he knew the job would hit a bit close to home for Eames because of the whole father-son relationship cliché. The cliché that Eames fit into perfectly. (Alright, the unofficial breakup was actually a bigger factor that went into it, he could admit. Privately, anyway.)

_“Sometimes I feel sad for these blokes working corporate. It’s one thing going through all of that, but also have your boss hire other people to go inside your head? Tragic.” Eames was saying one day after a long job, sprawled out shirtless on their bed._

_Arthur was in front of the mirror, shedding his tie and waistcoat. "Isn't that what your dad wanted you to follow him into?"_

_Eames let out a groan that got muffled against the pillow at the mention of his father before he turned to shift onto his back. “Good thing I didn't, hmm?” He hummed, his hand latching onto Arthur’s as he sat beside him. “Imagine if we’d met through corporate meetings instead of espionage.”_

_"Mm, I'd have to call you Mr. Eames."_

_"Mr. Eames, huh? I can't say I dislike it, darling." Eames grinned, pulling Arthur down to kiss him until the both of them fell asleep half dressed._

  
  


The first time Eames found out that Arthur’s last name was Darling, the forger was absolutely thrilled. It was way before they’d gotten together, and from that day onwards, Arthur could pinpoint the exact difference between Eames simply saying ‘Darling’, and saying _‘darling’_. Frankly speaking, Arthur wasn’t very fond of hearing Eames say it so plainly. It made him realise that Eames had never really just said his last name before this week. 

  
  


The next night **,** they order room service so that they could eat while Arthur brushes up on the dreamshare community online. Most high profile jobs are transferred face-to-face, those are the ones that Arthur trusted the most, but it never hurt to be on top of things.

“There’s a lot of activity here, now,” Arthur relays back to Eames, who is eating his _Pool Club_ _Sandwich_. “Kind of expected, though. With places being restricted and monitored more.”

“Mhmm.”

“I called Richard in the afternoon, turns out they’re putting a pause on big jobs for now, something about testing these three weeks to see if it would be safe enough. And to check if the virus can be transferred through the somnacin tubes.”

Eames pulled off a piece of bacon to eat separately. “I’ll call Yusuf about that, then. If they’re testing things related to somnacin, he’ll be up to speed.”

“Oh, you still talk to him?” Arthur asks, looking up from the laptop. Arthur first met Yusuf on the Fischer job, Dom vaguely told him that Eames referenced someone, and Arthur knew that they might have been friends for _Eames_ to be referencing someone. It either meant that they were the best at what they did, or that Eames trusted them. Which were two things that could be very related. ~~Unless you were Dominic Cobb.~~

The team had agreed to not be seen together for at least four months after the job, seeing as Robert Fischer had so many sources and knowledge of the dreamshare business. He could have suspected something had he seen them together. But they didn’t end up banding together after those four months passed, either. It was a shame really—, they pulled off the first inception together, with those kinds of skills and that kind of bond, they could have all become a real _‘dream team’_ for future clients (save Dom, as he'd retired).

“Yeah, he’s basically the only proper friend I’ve got.” Eames replies. “Gotta keep contact with the actual friends you make in this business.”

Now it wasn’t that Arthur didn’t like Yusuf. In fact, he was at the top of the list for people Arthur respected, but he also didn’t warn the team about-

"I know what you're thinking.” Eames interrupted his train of thought. “He promised to never do that to me again, even if he was getting paid double." 

"Promised?" Arthur repeats, frowning harder.

Eames nods, pushing his plate away and making his way to the bathroom. "Yeah, pinky swore, even."

“And you just …”

“Yusuf wouldn’t break a pinky promise. Trust me on this, yeah?”

Eames opens his suitcase to grab a tee, and Arthur catches a flash of gold and red. There was _no_ _way_ it’s what he thinks it is. But before Arthur can take a better look, the suitcase is closed and he’s left with a nagging feeling. 

  
  


**♥♠♣♦**

Over the course of the next week, they became more accommodated to having the other around again. Things were much smoother than the first three days. They could easily flit around the room together, and got comfortable enough to wear tees and sweats on a more regular basis. They had, after all, seen each other at various states of worsts, so what were a few silly t-shirts and joggers going to do? 

It did nothing to help sate Arthur’s conflicting emotions, though. In fact, it was probably getting worse.

He doesn’t know what he expected, honestly. They knew each other for nearly two years before getting together, and stayed together for four years. Even their gap after the breakup was longer than the time they spent together before dating, so there was bound to be a few moments that threw them out of loop.

When they were within Andrea and Ginny’s line of sight, Arthur could block off his thoughts because they were ‘just trying to keep the act up’. So when Eames put his arm over Arthur’s shoulder or around him, Arthur leaned back into him without hesitating. Holding hands even though his pulse sped up? Fine. Making things up or keeping a slither of truth about their life together? That Arthur could handle, too.

But it was different when they were away and they shared moments too much like before.

Eames picking the croutons off of Arthur’s salads because he still doesn’t like them very much, but loves the taste of Caesar salads too much to risk changing them by even a bit.

When Eames was eating another sandwich, Arthur brushed the crumbs from the corner of his mouth without thinking about it, and four minutes later when it hit him and his ears turned a violent shade of red.

When Eames was using his laptop, he nearly rested his head on his shoulder. He froze halfway, and he’s sure Eames noticed, but thankfully pretended he didn’t.

The night Arthur stayed awake until four A.M. because he was covering details for a job and dozed off at the table, but woke up to a blanket around him and a fresh cup of coffee in front of him an hour later. (Thinking about the fact that the coffee was fresh and Eames was still snoring made his brain hurt too much to think about at five in the morning, so he decided to just be grateful about it.)

That afternoon when they were in the hallway, overlooking the two girls, and Eames got another call so he walked away to answer it, but not before pressing a kiss to Arthur’s forehead. Neither of their faces went back to its natural shade for several hours after that. 

  
  


**♥♠♣♦**

The phenomenon of Arthur waking before Eames happened on the ninth day at the hotel. It was a little known fact that Eames was almost always up before Arthur. So unless he’d taken a nap (which he never does), or stayed up the entire night (which doesn’t constitute as waking up before him anyway), Arthur usually only got to admire Eames’s sleeping profile next to him when the man was in deep sleep. Which Arthur hadn’t witnessed in nearly three years. 

The thing that was so significant about Eames’s face and body language when he was in slumber was that it was all true and natural. Arthur learnt that when Eames was put to sleep, he was still tense. He supposed it was because Eames knew he was being put to sleep, and he didn’t fully relax knowing that someone could be watching, but it still took a lot to keep that body language topside.

But when you actually caught Eames sleeping, on his own, all the tension was gone from his body, all the worry lines gone from his face. There was no doubt about whether he was truly showing how he felt, or if he was putting up a front. It was truly a sight.

So when Arthur woke to a soft weight on his waist and turned to his right side, his breath caught in his throat. Because there was that sight. 

Arthur hadn’t dreamt naturally in a long time, but he knows what he would see if he did.

It would be the very thing that’s happening right now.

Eames sleeping on his stomach, arm stretched, resting on Arthur’s waist -more firmly now that Arthur shifted-, his face the very definition of soft and content.

Arthur had always absolutely loved the way Eames’s forehead would wrinkle when he would frown or raise his eyebrows, but now the smoothness was practically begging to be kissed.

So was the arch of his nose, the softness of cheekbones, the stubble over his jaw, the valley between his eyebrows. The eyebrows themselves making Arthur so badly want to trace over them with his thumbs.

And he would be lying if he said he didn’t find anything significant with the soft pink mouth Eames had on him. The slackness of them seemed to whisper to him. _Hey, remember what I feel like? Well, why don’t you check again?_

He wishes he could. He really does. He wishes that he could at least will his hands to move and touch his inviting lashes ever so lightly, but he knows that if he places even the slightest fingertip on Eames, he’ll wake up.

So he stays in the soft light of their hotel room, soaking in the moment, pretending like he wasn't using all of his willpower to stop himself from brushing their noses together again, pretending like they hadn’t left each other, pretending he hasn’t wished that he could come to this sight for the past two years. Pretending he won’t have to forget about this moment right after they got up. 

When Eames’s breathing starts to turn more regular, Arthur subtly turns away before Eames’s arms start pulling away. His eyes land on the gold ring he wears when they leave the room, and decides to close them. They sting slightly due to being kept open for so long right after waking up. At least that’s the reason he’s letting himself admit.

  
  


Later that day, Eames goes to scout on Ginny by himself, saying something about wanting to observe them with just each other, when they think no ones around. Alright, so Eames was essentially stalking them, why pretend he wasn’t. It came with the job. Besides, it let Arthur take a long shower and think about his inner turmoil.

When Eames didn’t return after Arthur’s one and half long shower (yes, when he said _long shower,_ he meant it), he ordered up a butterscotch milkshake for himself (from the children’s menu? Adults drank milkshakes, too. Here he was, an adult, ordering one. They’d have to change that. Maybe if he ordered enough ...). He had never had it before, and now seemed like a pretty good time to.

When Eames returned, he was on his third milkshake. He’s not sure how he got to ordering the other two, but he does remember frowning at the glass when the first one was over. Eames raises an eyebrow at Arthur, who was half-sitting half-lying on the chaise; spooning syrup into his mouth. Arthur raises his eyebrow back at him. He’d done enough thinking to not scramble around to fix himself.

“Good milkshake?” Eames asks, taking off his suit jacket, to which Arthur nods. “I’ll have to get myself one, then.”

Arthur gets up to put the glass on the table and stretch, refraining from getting another. He’s not sure he has the stomach to have any more, but he did miss indulging himself in sweets. In a few hours, of course, his poor stomach would remind him why. “They have butterscotch here.”

Eames was saying something when Arthur turned back around, but his breathing halted for the second time that day. Eames’s back was turned to him, so he didn’t notice Arthur’s disbelief and shock come out stronger than it had in years. But there was absolutely no way he was prepared to actually notice what was inside Eames’s suitcase corner.

It really _was-_

_That son of a-_

What in the Hell.

What in the _Goddamn Hell._

_What the fuck._

Arthur needed another long shower.

“Arthur?” Eames’s voice travelled to him, confused, as Arthur left the room, nearly slamming the door.

That _asshole_ . He really _was_ carrying around the keychain.

Arthur saw red and gold all the way till he sat down at the hallway chair to calm down. Running a hand through his wet hair, he swore out loud softly. When he glanced down at the hotel slippers he was wearing, he put his face between his palms.

  
  
  


They decided to officially move in together after Eames had disappeared for months on end after a particularly horrible job. When Eames returned, standing on Arthur’s front door step, it was evident that wherever he’d gone, the place had not been kind to him. In the worn shirt and trousers, Eames looked as if he’d lost a lot of weight since the last time Arthur had seen him, and even grew what could be classified as a beard.

_“I thought something horrible happened. You could have been dead.” Arthur whispered into his ear after practically launching himself into Eames’s arms. “You could have been dead, Eames, and I wouldn’t know until too late.”_

_“Hey, I’m alive. I’m alive,” Eames repeated, squeezing Arthur tighter._

_They sat on Arthur’s couch after getting down from the high that Eames was alive, and eating, when Arthur passed a gold keyring with five keys onto Eames’s hand. “Keys to my houses,” He explained quietly, a way of saying,_ “I’m not losing you again.” 

_Eames looked at it and saw the smaller keychains attached to it. There were four, shaped as 3D objects, with little hoops at the top that connected them to the keyring. A red heart, a gold spade, a gold club, and a red diamond._

_The playing card suits._

_Eames gave him a small grin. Questioning, even though he knows the answer._

_“I made those,” Arthur admitted, scratching the back of his head, the tips of his ear turning pink. “It was just … you know, it was lying around and I thought the keys looked a little bland by themselves, so …”_

_“I love it.” Eames said, putting a hand on Arthur’s nape before leaning in to press his lips against Arthur’s. They had already kissed for several minutes against the kitchen counter when the macaroni was being heated, and even more after they were done with said macaroni, but Arthur let his relief seep through completely at this one. Not just about Eames being back, he's sure their first make-out session against the door held title for that, but also at the fact that Eames liked the charms. At the fact that Eames understood how big a deal it was that Arthur just gave him keys to all his_ houses. _Arthur, the meticulous point man, and Eames, the manipulating thief who had just come back after months._

_“So, you made these by yourself?” Eames asked, nosing his cheek and letting his other hand rest on Arthur’s hip as one of Arthur’s wrapped around his shoulder. He hummed in confirmation and stroked Eames’s new short beard. Eames with a stubble may be Arthur’s favourite, but this definitely wasn’t a bad look. “They’re kind of like our very own shared totem, then, aren’t they?”_

_Arthur felt Eames’s grin come back at full force as he captured his lips into another kiss._

> ~~ _**[(LOOK AT LEO'S ART OF THEM AND THE KEYS WHICH IS THE MOST GORGEOUS THING TO HAVE EXISTED)](https://rightearring.tumblr.com/post/626075695375859712/my-inceptionbigbang-piece-art-for-capt-ann-s)  
>   
> **_~~

Even though Eames started off at the dreamshare business before Arthur, there were still things he _forged_ off of Arthur at the beginning.

_"You don't have a totem?" Arthur asked, sounding scandalised at Eames’s revelation._

_"I'm a forger, pet,” Eames supplied back, twirling his pen around in his hand as he leaned back against his chair next to Arthur. “if I can't forge, it must be reality."_

_"That's not-” Arthur frowned at him. “I know you're a good forger, but that's not safe enough."_

_“What’s your totem?” Eames asked, leaning into his space._

_Arthur showed him his totem and swatted his hand away when Eames tried to touch it, a mischievous look in his eyes. He told him to make a totem soon, because their job would be during the week. When Eames shows up the next day, flashing his misspelt poker chip to match Arthur’s red die, Arthur pretended to be less than impressed, when in reality it made his stomach flutter a bit. People could make multiple totems if they wished, but they usually stuck to one. Totems were something that could actually be so personal._

_And now Eames had linked it to him forever._

  
  


(As it turned out, it was a good thing that Eames had made one, even if it was more of a tease at first. Because a year later, when Eames walked into Arthur’s room and silently sat next to him, half on his lap with his head buried between Arthur's jaw and shoulder, he’s also gripping his totem on his other hand, furiously turning it between his fingers. He mumbled his _thank you’s_ against Arthur’s neck, saying he was afraid that he could be subconsciously not forging on purpose to keep himself in the limbo. 

That was the first time he had gone to see a chemist out of personal reasons, and the last because of the exaggerated story that got out about what had happened to said chemist. But as long as there were no chemists risking half done compounds on Arthur or Eames, who was he to give in to rumours.)

  
  
  


So, really, in a way, the keychain was a tribute to their pair.

Being a part of a job with Eames, he could do. Sitting beside Eames for hours in a plane, and even pretending to be married to him. But seeing the keychain with Eames again … 

Arthur rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, wondering if it was a twisted way to mess with him. Would Eames do such a thing? Surely there was no way he’d be that cruel to him, right? If that was true, that would mean that Arthur stormed out of the room for no reason.

Eames couldn’t have done it to be messing with Arthur, because if he was, he would be doing it in a much more flashy way, like laying it out like it meant nothing, or just using the key ring that Arthur specifically designed, as well.

In the middle of his agitation, Arthur noticed he’d still been wearing the gold band around his ring finger. He must have forgotten to take it off last night. He sighs and turns it around a few times before taking a deep breath and heading back to their room. On the off chance that Eames truly did carry it around for himself and didn’t intend for Arthur to know, … well. 

“You okay?” Eames asks him after he’s back. Looked like he’d responsibly taken a shower in fresh clothes, as well.

“Yeah, uh … yeah, I’m fine. Just got some bad news.” Arthur said, cringing at how horrible the excuse sounded.

Eames laid himself down on the bed, picking up the room service menu. “Heard you have to be stuck in the hotel for an extra week?”

Arthur turned his head sharply. _“What?”_

“Hey, now, I’m only teasing,” Eames snickers. “Don’t worry, we’re out of here in four days.” _Four_ days still? It had already felt like nine years, and now there were four more to go? Maybe he did drop down into an anxiety dream. Eames waves at the table holding Arthur’s three empty shake glasses. “I think I’ll get one of those butterscotch shakes, you want another?”

“I think it’s better if I don’t. My stomach’s not going to agree to so much sugar at once.” Arthur amends, reopening his laptop for a distraction. Maybe he’d send an email to Ariadne, it had been a while, and what better time to check in with people than before what seemed to be heading to a pandemic.

“Smart thinking as always, darling.” Eames nods, and Arthur almost didn’t catch it. When he did, looking up, absolutely stunned, Eames was talking into the phone, laughing softly, turning up the charm he used on people doing their job. The light caught on Eames’s ring when he brought it up to scratch his jaw, as if the universe was tempting him to throw hands.

Again, _what the fuck_. He was going to go insane by the time this was up.

  
  
  


“Hard to believe two weeks is almost up.” Eames muttered two days later, sitting on the lounge outside, with his arm draped behind Arthur’s seat. “This could be my best forge yet.”

“That would be the Commodus job, actually.” Arthur supplies, relaxing onto the sofa and downing his drink. He’s mostly down here to keep their act up, but the food and beverages were a big plus.

“Very brave of you to say that since though you haven’t seen me forge Ginny, yet.”

“I know I'll still be right. The Commodus job was very impressive.”

“You’re just saying that because you fancied the man I was forging.”.  
  


“Which means I’m more critical about it, so really, that should make you feel good.” Arthur counters, shifting further into Eames’s side when he sees the girls coming closer to them. Fitting in next to Eames as his husband came naturally nowadays as it seemed. And if Eames looked like he wasn’t tired of pretending to be his … well, that definitely didn’t hurt.

  
  
  


Arthur stripped out of his dress shirt and trousers to put on his navy blue t-shirt and maroon joggers when Haley’s caller ID flashed up on his screen. “Hello?” He spoke into his phone as he finished pulling up his pants.

“Hello, Arthur, the best point man in the world. Enjoying your stay at the hotel?” She asks, making Arthur frown at her tone.

“It’s been fine, all things considered, yeah. Why? Is there something wrong?”

“Well … in a sense, yes. But if you look at the bright side, no.”

“And that means?”

“I feel like this is a good time to remind you that all the expenses you spend at the hotel is on me.”

Alright. There was _definitely_ something wrong. “Thank you, Haley. But maybe skip to the point?”

“Well, you see. I’ll still be paying you guys for the job, but as it turns out … we don’t need to go through with the job. The client already got the information, since the mark’s been out for two weeks. Not sure what exactly went down, but he wired the money to us plus five percent, so I decided not to ask.”

A silence stretched out till Haley called his name twice before he let out a long sigh. “Are you screwing with me?” 

“I’m not … I’m really sorry, Arthur. I know these two weeks might have been … unpleasant for you.”

That was what got him thinking. Was it really that bad? They bickered a few times, and there were times when one of them said something that crossed the line, but all in all … it wasn’t _that_ bad. If Haley had called with this news two weeks ago, he would have cut off all contact without a second thought. Now, he could see why that would be “a bit” too dramatic.

If Arthur was being honest, these two weeks had been pretty good. He’d felt suffocated with a distress and a deep unwanted feeling of _longing_ at times, sure, but blurring those parts, he’d also felt the lightest he had in years. The way they flowed swiftly through each thing, whether it was something about the job they’re doing now or something that the other caught wind of, put a heavy blanket of tranquility over Arthur. Their chemistry is what drew them to each other in the first place, so to see that their dynamic was still strong wasn’t too much of a surprise.

Alright, it made him kind of anxious, too. What did this mean for them? Eames knew he wasn’t with anyone, and he knew that Eames wasn’t with anyone, but that didn’t necessarily mean that his feelings would have resurfaced. Did Arthur want them to? What would he even do if Eames still felt the same?

_Wait what?_ “ _Felt the same_ ”? What the-

“Arthur?” This time it was Eames calling for him. His questioning tone came into the bathroom before he did. “You alright?”

“What?” Arthur out loud after turning around to face him, phone still stuck to his ear as he hears Haley mumbling about something that went over his head. “Oh. Uh, yeah. Haley’s on the phone. You might want to hear this.”

Arthur walks out of the bathroom and puts the phone on speaker before placing it down on the table for Eames. “Haley, love, I’d say you fancy Arthur a lot more than myself with you always calling him and never me, hm?”

“After what you did last time, Eames,” she replies with fond exasperation, “it does seem to be safer to call Arthur.”

“Point taken,” Eames nods at the phone before taking a seat on the other side of the table as Arthur stands and has an internal crisis, hoping he doesn’t look like it. “So, what’s this thing I’ve got to hear?”

“Oh, well, would you look at the time. I think I’m going to have to turn in, now. Arthur knows, so he can fill you in. Bye, boys!” Then there’s the silence that follows after a call has been hung up before Eames gives him an inquiring look.

“She does realise we're in the same city and it’s barely evening time now, right?” He raises an eyebrow, making Arthur sigh.

  
  


Later that night as Eames started snoring softly, Arthur sent off another text to Haley.

**To H:**

_it hasn’t been too bad._

  
  
  


“You do realise that you don't have to keep an eye on them anymore, right?” Arthur questions from the bed the next morning as Eames was putting on a tie in front of the mirror. 

“I do,” Eames affirms, moving over to the table to finish his cup of morning tea. “But it’s good to get out and stretch. Besides, it’s the last two days, we’re under ethical law to speak to them after doing so for two weeks. Now, are you coming?”

“You got attached, didn’t you?”

Silence. “See, it’s not called attach-,”

“Yes, I’m coming.” Arthur interrupts with an _I warned you_ tone, a smile threatening to break out as he pushed away the blankets.

  
  


Since Eames was already wearing his dark blue suit with a maroon tie, Arthur opted to match with a maroon suit and tie that was the exact same shade as Eames’s suit. It was the last day they’d see Andrea and Ginny, if he wanted to go all out, all out he would go. 

Seemed like the girls had gotten the same idea too. Andrea walked in wearing an elegant light green blouse and cream pleats, and Ginny in a lovely light green sundress. While Andrea’s dark hair was put up in a braid-crossed-updo, Ginny’s lighter curls bounced on her shoulder.

Andrea whispers something to Ginny making her light up with laughter and latch onto her upper arm. The site suddenly hits Arthur with nostalgia. He takes Eames’s hand in his but doesn’t look at him. When Eames squeezes his hand, almost like a question, it feels as if he’s squeezing Arthur’s heart, too.

The couple takes a seat one chair away from theirs at the bar. “Good morning,” they greet together. “Hard to believe it’s the last day, huh? It went by so fast.” Ginny says as Andrea orders a drink for the two of them.

“Too fast,” Eames agreed, shifting his leg so it touches Arthur’s, making his skin tingle. “I think I’ll actually miss this place.”

Ginny nods, winding her arm through Andrea’s. “Ah, yeah. Isn’t it so weird? Made me realise we’ve never stayed at a hotel for longer than a week unless we’re on a business trip. But even then, there’s so much sightseeing to do, you never really realise just how much the _hotel_ has.”

“Most of the things weren’t available to do now,” Andrea adds. “But it’s the thought that counts.”

"Oh, definitely. I think the last time we'd been inside a hotel room this long was when Frank and I just started dating. We were so happy to get some time to ourselves we locked ourselves in there for three days." That was a lie, of course. Arthur knew that Eames had to stake out at a hotel for five days just two months ago, but it didn't stop his neck from flushing at the very real event Eames just drew from. 

Andrea let out a low whistle. "Three days? We barely lasted two days our first time. Impressive."

"That's Frank for you." Eames smiles, looking at Arthur. "Impressive."

  
  


_"You know what's my favourite thing about you?” Arthur had asked him one time, sitting with his back pressed against Eames’s chest. They were sitting on their roof, looking at the stars, not sure when it became a norm. “I can tell when you're lying, because you won’t lie to me."_

_"I could." Eames hummed, pressing his face against Arthur’s neck._

_Arthur pushed the pads of their fingers against each other. "You could. But you won't."_

  
  


“Can’t tell if this has been the slowest two weeks or the fastest two weeks of my life,” Eames huffs back at the room, gathering a set of clothes under his arms.

“The first week was the slowest, the last five days were the fastest.” Arthur offers, hanging his clothes in the closet before jumping on the bed.

“Yeah, you’re right.” When Eames nods, his hair flops in place, and Arthur feels the strong itch to run his hands through his hair, not for the first time in these two weeks. Honestly, he’s pretty surprised he hasn’t accidentally done so already. “I’m going to miss this place,” he repeats from before as Arthur fluffs up a pillow, leaning against the headboard. “You’ve got to love a good stakeout your boss pays for, hmm?”

“You’re not annoyed that the whole thing was for nothing? You basically stalked the poor girl for two weeks, and now you won’t even be able to forge her without being creepy.” 

Eames pauses to take that in before shrugging and saying, “Well, I wouldn’t say it was for nothing.” And leaves to the shower before Arthur can take in what that means.

  
  


Arthur feels like he’s missing something. Something big. He’s not sure what it is, but it seems to be pulling him harder but fading away at the same time and he’s not sure what to do. He’s not sure what to do with Eames, either. Turns out suppressing his thoughts and emotions about anything Eames related wouldn’t help when you see him two years later. 

Every time Eames smiles at him throughout the evening, or says something so _Eames_ , Arthur isn’t sure if he wants to punch him in the face, kiss him, cry, or leave. 

Unsurprising that his feelings were creeping back, if Arthur was being honest, Eames had that effect on people.

Him especially.

He can’t wait for tomorrow to arrive so he can get out of the hotel.

  
  


Arthur’s dressed to go by the next afternoon, Eames still deciding which coat he wants to wear to the airport. Something comfortable but elegant probably. That was the usual _Eames on the_ _last day of the job._

“You don’t want one more of the butterscotch milkshakes before we go?” Eames asks, passing on another combination.

Arthur looks up from the laptop where he’s sitting on the table. “I completely forgot about that.” He shakes his head, walking to the phone beside the bed. “Thanks,” He says, and Eames grins at him again. _Fuck._ He’s already looking away and Arthur only remembers to do so, too, when the voice over the phone asks him how they could help him. He’s almost tempted to say _“send a hitman up here,”_ in response. Two butterscotch milkshakes will have to do for now.

“Hey, remember that time we bought a rainbow butterscotch cake for James?” Eames chuckles, turning around to lean his hip against the chaise. 

“Yeah, Phillpa scarfed down the entire cake after we put it in the fridge and left the kitchen.” Arthur smiles back. It was the first time they'd even tried butterscotch flavoured cake, and Arthur was secretly hoping to have some more later, but the sight of Phillipa’s face completely smothered in rainbow colours didn’t let him feel a slither of regret.

“You think we’ll be allowed to take butterscotch anything to Phillipa now? They must’ve forgotten by now, right?”

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “So you’re telling me you didn’t send a batch of butterscotch flavoured cupcakes to Dom’s last year?”

Eames laughs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You found out about that?” 

“I wanted to see the kids, and when better than their birthday.” He shrugs, then nods when he remembers he finished most of them (a bit angrily, but he didn’t have to admit that). “The cupcakes were good, thank you.”

“I think I’ll visit this year with a bigger cake. Have to see Dom’s face in person for whatever happens then, hmm? James is a bigger boy, now, I’m sure he’ll help his sister clean up the plate.”

As Eames talks, he doesn’t tell him about how after he ate the cupcakes he had to go sit down at Cobb's backyard for a minute. How looking at those cupcakes felt like a punch to the gut. How he wished that Eames was there to eat them, too, even if he didn’t want to see him. How he cancelled his date that night right after. 

It would be so easy. So easy, to just walk over to lean in and tug Eames’s tie until their mouths met. He hadn’t even noticed when his legs started moving to get closer to him, hand aching with a need to touch him.

Not until there were three taps against the door and a voice calling out saying, _“Room service!”_

_Oh no. No no no no. Shit. Out of all the_ —

The next few seconds were somewhat of a blur. He snatches his hand back like he’s been stung and hesitates about whether he should run to the bathroom or not. Thankfully, his autopilot decides to do something right instead, as if saying _oh shit, sorry I almost made you kiss your ex who you’ve been pining for since forever. I’ll get you out of this one if I get a milkshake later, though._

He barely hears Eames’s voice wavering before he so very responsibly goes to open the door. As Eames deals with the room service attendant, Arthur hastily shoves his clothes back into his suitcase, cursing himself for not doing this earlier and having to wrinkle his freshly pressed outfits. 

The only good thing after all this bad luck the last few weeks, is that his good luck finally decided to kick in. The attendant was telling Eames about how they could leave the hotel when they wished now, since the two weeks mark had been up, and Eames, for the sake of being polite, wasn't shutting the door on her face.

Arthur’s done and ready, complete with wearing the mask he had ordered a few days ago, to leave by the time Eames is shutting the door.

“Hey, hey, woah, where are you going? You know we don’t have to leave at this _exact moment_ , right? Arthur?”

Arthur runs a hand through his hair, pausing in the middle of the hallway as his heart continues to race. You would’ve thought that all this aging would at least stop his body from acting like a teenagers. “I need—I need to go, sorry.” He manages to say before continuing to speed walk to the elevator. Eames’s calls barely reached his ears. He accidentally glances back as the elevator door closes and sees Eames’s crestfallen expression.

  
  


He only calms down once he arrives at the apartment Haley’s staying at two hours later.

He’d already gone through the mayhem of his emotions at the cab, so he just hugged her and said he would take a nap then explain everything.

He knew Eames knew.

Of course he did.

Arthur apparently had what Eames called _"the intense 'kiss me' face"._ It was subtle enough that other people wouldn't catch on to it, but supposedly loud and clear to Eames.

And the slight shift in Eames's expression, that Arthur unfortunately got to see before running, gave away the fact that he caught on.

  
  


After exhaust-napping for five hours, Arthur sits down at the table and tells Haley everything over a mug of coffee on the couch. She did manage to pay him the amount of two jobs for none, let him crash without a question, and was the person he’d been working with the most the past year. He figured if there’s someone he should be able to confide in, it could be her. Also because he was feeling as emotionally fragile as the first time Eames left, and this time he wanted to let it out outside of the shooting range. 

“You’re being stupid,” Haley says, her legs draped on the arm of the chair, sipping her juice from what Arthur thinks is the biggest glass he’s seen since he was five. “You should just tell him you’re still in love with him.”

“I’m not still _in love_ with him.” Arthur frowns. “It’s been two years. I moved on from that. I . . . like him again, at the most.”

“You’re in love with him.” she repeats, shaking her head. “And I think he still loves you. So you should’ve just told him. You were together for what, four years? That’s a long time, buddy. You don’t just get over someone like that, especially since neither of you did anything . . . nefarious or whatever. He took this job without a question after hearing you were working it? Then he tried to stop you from leaving? He likes you. _At the least._ ”

“I didn’t say he tried to stop me,” he grumbles like a child, moving the spoon around in his mug.

“He called out to you, and you foolishly left, literally the same thing,” she replies, straightening up on the armchair to look at him properly. “I really do think you should’ve stayed to at least hear what he had to say. Isn’t that the reason you were pissed all this time? Because he didn’t hear you out.”

Arthur pauses. “Oh. Shit.” She nods.

“Listen, I’m going to bed now, but you should call him before it’s too late. He could think it’s his fault, you know, you not wanting to marry him. From his point of view.” Haley stretches and hands him his own phone before giving him a hug. “Thank you for telling me. I really hope this works out, you guys seem great for each other, and you shouldn’t let your pride trample over it.”

He sighs and lets her go, the two exchanging goodnights before Arthur sits on the couch again, his head in his hands. The problem was, it was already too late. It had already been eight hours since they saw each other, and a quick search shows that Eames had already left the country. All the more reason to forget about reconnecting.

Truth was, Arthur was also scared. Spilling the events to Haley made him realise that, technically, there was a pattern. Eames walking out, then him, then Eames, and now him again. Which could only conclude one way the pattern would continue.

  
  


Arthur didn’t want to be called a wimp to his face by Haley, so he leaves her a nice note, being thankful about her letting him stay and then listening to him. Then he leaves for the airport and goes back home.

Once he’s in his condo in Toronto, he pauses to fix most of the contents inside his suitcase right away. He doesn’t want to do it when he’s feeling fresh enough to take everything in and recall everything that happened in the past two weeks. After that, he promptly collapses onto his bed and stays that way for a solid half hour before deciding to change into his pyjamas.

  
  


A week passes. He finishes four books from his to-read pile, which has been sitting there for years, and five shows in a row. The security guard, who’s surrounded by so many different plants, now nods at him every time he comes back from a jog in the afternoon. Arthur thinks about getting a few plants for himself. He also thinks about cutting his hair when the curls start to show. He doesn’t do either, but he does restock his fridge and clean off all the dust around the house.

  
  


It happens when Arthur’s cleaning out his side table drawer and his eyes fall upon the gold ring.

He takes it out and sits on the floor, his back against his bed. The fake ring sitting on his palm shines even brighter than the first time he saw it. The _fake_ ring. _It could’ve been real,_ his mind whispers.

This _was_ stupid. He knew it was. God, what would Mal even say if she was here to see this trainwreck that was going on? 

_“Ma chérie,”_ She’d probably say. _“Mais ce qu’a lié l’amour même, le temps ne peut le délier.”_

Germain Nouveau. _But what love has bound together, time cannot unbind._

And it hit him with a wave of certainty about what to do.

He’ll blame a big part on Mal for buying the next ticket out to Hampshire, where he knew Eames currently was. And a bit on Haley, too. He didn’t appretiate being called stupid, and would probably put anyone on a blacklist for saying that, but it did help. He couldn’t just let this thing get between them. Not when years had passed and he still felt the same spark around him.

Arthur’s never had a hard time moving on from people. He’s lived long enough to know that you just have to move on when the time comes, when someone doesn’t want you anymore. He’s always thought it was better to leave than to have to _convince_ someone you were worth it.

He didn’t expect Eames to just push everything away and take Arthur back into his arms, but he had to tell him everything. At the very least.

For himself. A little bit for Mal.

One thing he knew Mal would do was smack him with a rolled up newspaper if she heard a big part of why he didn't say yes that day.

  
  
  


He’s not expecting much. Doing that wouldn’t treat him well after, if Eames did decide to tell him to go away. So he figures he should go there without any predictions. The goal here wasn’t to get him back, it was to make sure that Eames knew that he hadn’t done anything wrong. That he didn’t mean to let him down. Especially more than once.

Arthur's been suppressing all his personal thoughts and memories affiliated with Eames for two years, but seeing as he couldn’t go through every outcome of their conversation, it all rushes back to him when he’s on the plane.

They come like waves. Some memories one-by-one, some overlapping, some gently and some too fast. Going through them feels like drowning as a water nymph.

He remembers seeing Eames for the first time and instantly feeling pulled to him. _Coup de foudre_. Even if he hadn’t known at the time.

Mal had introduced them. Not as a new colleague, but as a friend. Maybe she’d known that they were perfect for each other when she sent them together on a trip to get more snacks for the party she was arranging. He hadn’t known that he would grow to fall in love with him more than he thought he could bear, but apparently Eames had.

Their first job together shortly after, one that Dom had arranged, and he remembers how impressed Eames had been, too. Even though he’d pretty much botched the job when he shot three of the projections. _(“They were asking for it. Besides, we got what we needed, didn’t we?” “You were bleeding out for ten minutes, Eames.” “Ah, no worries. Just a dream.”)_

The first time he realised he trusted him more than they, as criminals, should. Standing at the edge of the roof of a seventeen story building, no weapons in hand as their opponents were making their way to them. Eames asked him to trust him and offered a hand, Arthur took it without hesitation and jumped off, later processing what a big leap that was for him. Not just physically, but emotionally too.

When Arthur found him sitting against a wall in the middle of an alley, holding a hand against his abdomen, his shirt darkening by the minute. He asked to hold his hand for just a minute while Arthur cursed and got his first aid kit out. Eames muttered up excuses about wanting to squeeze something to relieve the pain, but didn’t say anything when they were still holding hands after five minutes. Arthur managed to stitch up his side with one hand.

Then, two months later, when Eames asked him out for the first time. Even the suit Eames wore for their first date. It was the first time he saw Eames wearing a tie out of a dream. Needless to say, he definitely ended up tugging it many times later that night.

Going stargazing with him, the first time of many. _(“Yes, of course I’ve been stargazing, Eames. My childhood wasn’t that uneventful.” “But you haven’t after growing up? Darling, that’s a downright shame. We’re going tonight.”)_

Spending three hours at the kennel because seeing Eames so happy around the canines was a sight Arthur could get addicted to. No, they didn't get a dog together. They did talk about, but it seemed that whenever they spoke about getting pets together, they could very rarely reach a middle point. Arthur wondered if that could be changed now, but immediately told himself to snap out of it. 

When they tried baking together. Tried being the keyword since they had burnt three whole pies because they got sidetracked by each other. _("I can't believe you burnt three pies. Three." "_ We _burnt three pies, darling. If anything, you should be getting more of the blame for being all distracting with that apron.")_

When they fell asleep together for the first time. Hogging the blankets and nearly falling off the bed when Eames yanked them for himself. When they actually _slept together_ and every time after that. 

When he told him he loved him for the first time. And every time after that.

  
  


♥♠♣♦

Arthur stands on the porch for seven minutes before realising that Eames probably has security cameras installed to alert him for intruders. _Well, crap._ Steeling his nerves, he finally knocks on the door.

It still takes Eames a while to open the door. He's wearing a faded sweater, a ratty pair of joggers, and his _"what do you want"_ face. Arthur figures he deserves it. “You here to up and leave again?” Eames asks, crossing his arms.

"Last time I was here, you were the one to shut the door in my face," Arthur points out.

Eames nods.

He hesitates. "Is this a bad time?"

"Depends."

“I know sorry doesn’t cut it," Arthur jumps right into it, and Eames's eyes harden before he looks away, "but I am. I’m sorry. For leaving last week, but also for letting you leave before that."

There's a beat of silence before Eames rubs his face. "I guess we're doing this, then."

Eames heads to the sitting room after opening the door wider for Arthur to get in. After he shuts the door, Arthur trails after him, coming to a halt once his eyes land on _the Goddamn_ _keyring_ sitting on top of the table beside the couch. 

“It’s been there for a week now. I wasn’t sure if I should finally let it go or not.” Eames says when he follows his eyes.

_Don’t. Please don’t._ He almost slips. “I guess,” Arthur starts, but he has to clear his throat, and he curses himself for that. “I guess you can decide today, then.”

“Right,” Eames sighs. “Right, yeah. Answer this first, Arthur. Why now?”

“Because I just realised how stupid I was to not do this last week. Which made me realise that I was stupid to not do this at the Greggory job in Athens. And finally, made me realise how stupid I was to not do this . . . that night.” 

Eames presses his lips together, his face indifferently cold, and Arthur doesn’t know how to feel. He feels like stomping around, a bit, really. “Every second since before I'd even walked out,” Eames says after a while, “I wish you stopped me. But you didn't. And I spent months, _years,_ thinking that you lost feelings for me, that I wasn't good enough for you.”

“No. God, no.” Arthur denies immediately, forcing himself not to walk over and touch him. “You were, I swear. You were more than enough.”

“Then what, Arthur?” And there’s finally an uncontrolled emotion that seeps through, but Arthur hates that it’s pain. Like he’s been asking himself this question every day with no one to tell him the answer.

Turns out that just because Arthur didn’t want to talk, didn’t mean he didn’t have a lot to say. Because at Eames’s question, the floodgates opened. “I was nervous. I was scared. I . . . I wasn't even thinking properly that night. I knew we were going to get married, Eames. I knew you'd ask me sometime soon, because I knew _you_ . It was dragging on long enough for me to ask you. But then . . . it happened." _Mal died_. “And I know I shouldn’t have let it affect us like that, but you know how important she was to me. To _us._ ”

Eames’s expression softens tenfold, and he looks like he’s about to say something, but Arthur doesn’t let him yet. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone else, and as cliche as that sounds, it’s true. I didn’t want you to not want me anymore. I didn’t want to tell you to give me a chance because of my pride, but screw that. I _do_ want you to give me a chance. It’s been two— _five_ years, Eames. I haven’t gotten over you, I don’t think I will, but I understand if you would rather . . . not. That’s okay, I respect that,” Eames looks like he's about to interrupt again, but Arthur puts his hand up. He hasn’t spoken this much in . . . well, since his valedictorian speech, actually, and just like then, he’s just completely pouring his heart out before time runs out.

"I just need you to know that it was never your fault. You’re more than enough. I didn't need you to be new, Eames. I didn't need you to be exciting, or unpredictable. I just needed _you_. You, behind all of your other personas. You, when you're doing the same thing over and over. You, with your waking up too early, making tea before you brush. Reading the news after breakfast like you're fifty already, but tuning in to that kids channel at one thirty every afternoon.

I loved that you talk to your mom every week for at least an hour. And how you still have to have a snack at four and taffies while you're using the laptop, how you play around with your pocketwatch when you’re on a call. I loved,” Arthur’s voice cracks, but he still goes on, “that you would always kiss some part of my face before leaving the room. I loved _you_. I _love_ _you_.”

Arthur didn't know when he started crying. Didn't even realise he was until Eames put his hands on his face and wipes at the stray tears falling down. He let out a soft sound and leaned further into his palms.

“Oh bloody Hell . . ." Eames curses. "You let your hair grow out on purpose for this, didn't you?" He asks, leaning to press their foreheads together. "Do you think I've gotten over you? You think I was lying when I said that you were the best thing that happened to me? Damn me _,_ but I've loved you for seven years, Arthur. Quite pathetic of me.”

Arthur closes his eyes and his hands go up to hold Eames’s wrists. “I’m sorry,” He repeats. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, I am. I’m sorry. I was a bloody arse, I shouldn’t have sprung that on you while you were already going through such a tough time." Eames shakes his head. " _Fuck,_ it complete slipped my mind that time, I'm sorry."

"It's not fair to blame it all on Mal," Arthur whispers, his hold on Eames tightening. Eames touching his face as _Eames_ felt much better than all of those two weeks of affection as 'Edward' combined. "It was also just me being scared. I don't know why I was scared, you're the only other person I've met in our line of work who's as careful as me."

"Hey. None of that should weigh in after . . . after you lost your best friend, alright?" Eames states, tilting Arthur's face up so he opens his eyes to look at him. And the regret and grief that's filled in Eames's eyes make him a bit dizzy. "I'm sorry that I put that on you and then left. I was an arse for making you lose two people at once. _I'm_ absolutely fucking stupid to have had that spelled out for me to realise the time line of those events."

"You lost her, too." Arthur says, moving back to look at him properly, as Eames's thumbs continue to stroke his cheek back and forth. "And I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you after that. I'm sorry _we_ didn't get to continue being there for each other."

"We're here now though, yeah?" Eames questions, his hands falling away. "If that offer's still there. I'd like to try again, if you'll forgive me."

"We both screwed up." Arthur amends, taking Eames's hands in his. "And we should probably talk more about this but . . . _I missed you,_ Eames. More than I thought I could miss anyone. So, pause?"

Eames squeezes his hands, breaking out into a smile. "I missed you, too, Arthur, so bloody much."

And it clicks inside him. This is what he was missing before. Not just missing as in I miss you, but _missing_ as in he'd almost lost this. _I almost lost you._ _I almost lost you forever._

He almost passed the chance to have this again with quite possibly the only one who was actually perfect for him. The comfort that goes through his entire body at Eames's words eases him in ways that he hasn't felt in years.

To think that this all had happened because of such a simple misconception. 

"Next time, _fuck,_ let's just talk." Arthur breathes out, almost letting another fresh set of tears out as he puts his arms around Eames’s shoulders and presses his face against his neck. "Even if we're upset. But no leaving unless we figured everything out. _Together."_

Eames continues to place kisses against the top of his head, as he's been doing since Arthur got close enough. "Anything. _Anything._ I'm so happy to have you back, darling."

  
  
  


♥♠ **_epilogue_ **♣♦

  
  


"I had our alters married, Arthur," Eames was saying, stealing bacon off Arthur's plate. Arthur frowns and swats his hand before giving up on the bacon bits and going for Eames’s scrambled eggs instead. 

"All I said was that I didn't know if you still wanted to talk about it after two years. Especially after I tried and you shut the door on my face, asshole." Arthur fires back.

The bastard had the audacity to shrug at that before getting up to their plates to the sink. "In my defence, I thought that you shagged up with Ariadne right after you broke us up." He informs, after returning.

" _I_ broke us up?" Arthur exclaims, throwing a napkin at Eames’s face, who, despite being known for his poker face, barely ever maintains one with Arthur.

His grin breaks through as he says, "Don't worry, darling, it's in the past. I forgive you."

"I'll show you forgiveness." Arthur huffs, pushing his chair back and chasing after Eames.

He winks at him before he disappears into the bedroom. "Show me forgiveness here."

  
  


Forty-five minutes later, they're much sweatier than Arthur would like to be after already taking a shower not so long ago. He shoves Eames off, frowning at the mess. 

Eames goes easily to his side and brings a hand up to play with Arthur's curls. He still hasn't cut his hair, but has been 'planning to'. If he put off the thought every time Eames tugs a curl—well, you couldn't blame him. "What other ways were you expecting for me to bait you? A blimp that read ‘ _Arthur talk to Eames about what happened_ ’?”

“Thought you had more _imagination_ than that?” Arthur asks back, raising an eyebrow.

Eames fingers freeze. “He told you, didn’t he? I didn’t mean it that way, of course, darling. You have to understand.” He says, pulling Arthur’s arm until he’s straddling his waist again. “I just meant you like to do things that have research behind them.”

Arthur frowns from above. “I can’t conduct my own research?”

Eames lets out a groan, pulling him down to a kiss to distract him. Alright, yeah, it works. It’s not really his fault that Eames kisses like he’s pouring out confessions, everything Arthur could possibly want to hear. Unless it’s a brief _I’m-about-to-leave_ , or _I-just-want-to-kiss-you-because-I-can kiss,_ Eames kisses like he’s got all the time in the world and he wants to spend most of it letting him know he loves him through his lips. ~~There’s also another way he does that, but Arthur could go on about that some other time.~~

He pulls away, the soreness catching up to him. Eames has this look on his face and Arthur knows exactly what he’s about to say. “I love you,” He says, tracing Arthur’s cheeks until the dimples pop out.

"I love you, too." Arthur replies, turning his head to kiss Eames’s palm. He looks at their bedside table, which has both their keyrings. They look nearly identical, the only difference is the shape of the two gold rings that are attached to it. When Eames suggested attaching the fake rings to their keychain collection -seeing how much it had affected their relationship-, Arthur was reminded of why and just how much he loves the man. 

"What are you thinking about?" Eames asks, pushing back Arthur's hair.

Arthur bends down to press another kiss against Eames’s lips before he climbs off. “About how much I can't wait to get married to you.” 

  
There's a few seconds of silence as Arthur makes his way to the kitchen again. “... Married?” Eames echoes before he hears the bed creak as Eames gets out to go after him. “Arthur, Arthur, wait, _married?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> [ Leo's absolutely fantastic art again because you guys deserve to see the way he literally captured it in the most perfect way ever ](https://rightearring.tumblr.com/post/626075695375859712/my-inceptionbigbang-piece-art-for-capt-ann-s#_=_)   
>  ~~ily leo youre the best spouse ever~~
> 
> hope you guys liked reading it as much as I liked writing it :D
> 
> (A/E tumblr's [ @thisarthurandeames ](https://thisarthurandeames.tumblr.com//) mwah if youre from there, and if not, go ahead and give it a go <3)


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